


windmill, windmill

by themoonwouldnotcooperate



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Genderqueer Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonwouldnotcooperate/pseuds/themoonwouldnotcooperate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judging by the light coming through the window, it's barely after dawn but Sorin can't stand laying in bed any longer and xe slips out from under all of the furs xe has piled on top of xyrself.  Xyr toes graze the rough stone floor while trying to find the edge of the floor furs and xe shivers, light sleeping clothes not enough protection from the chill morning air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	windmill, windmill

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly pointless words I needed to put somewhere. Let me know if I screwed up the pronouns anywhere, I'm still not quite used to using them.

Judging by the light coming through the window, it's barely after dawn but Sorin can't stand laying in bed any longer and xe slips out from under all of the furs xe has piled on top of xyrself. Xyr toes graze the rough stone floor while trying to find the edge of the floor furs and xe shivers, light sleeping clothes not enough protection from the chill morning air. Xe's sleeping in the chantry now, small room off of the main hall instead of taking up precious space in Haven's small infirmary. The chantry's better insulated than most other buildings in the outpost and far superior to sleeping in a tent but the stone doesn't warm up until late into the afternoon, which makes getting up in the mornings hazardous to anyone's bare feet.

The bowl of water that sits on xyr nightstand looks inviting until xe notices the thin film of ice that's formed over the top and decides to forgo dipping xyr head into icy water before going out into the chill morning. Xe skins xyr thin pants and shirt off quickly, hunching xyr shoulders futilely against the chill air as xe tugs on a loose pair of leather trousers, cinched tight at waist and ankles with strips of cloth wound around xyr body. A light undershirt and tunic go on next and xe finally slips into xyr new favorite piece of clothing, a fur lined coat that Leliana insisted on having made for xem after Sorin brought down xyr first great bear (xe mostly stayed out of range of its claws and froze its feet to the ground, Cassandra's the one who actually killed it). It's the warmest thing xe has ever owned and the tailor who made it was only too happy to work with xem on figuring out how to replicate Dalish patterns with decidedly human implements, which may have had something to do with how that particular bear had been about to eat her before Sorin and xyr party had come along. Xyr boots are just where xe left them and xe takes a moment to thank June for the crafting abilities of the Lavellan clan's craftmaster because it's been a month of scrambling up and down the hills of the Hinterlands and they're just as sturdy as the first day xe put them on.

Safely shod and covered against the bitter air, Sorin grabs xyr staff and leaves xyr room, heading towards the tantalizing smell of breakfast wafting from the quartermaster's fire. It's early enough that almost no one in the chantry but xem is either awake or ready to brave the morning yet xe can already hear the sounds of sword on shield and Cullen's bellowing drift up from the training grounds. Sometimes xe thinks the man must run purely on the terror of the new recruits and sheer determination; there's no other explanation for how he manages to be up so early and still stay up until the wee hours of the morning poring over their scantily detailed maps with the rest of the advisors. Still, the porridge is hot as every other morning and the new trade the Inquisition has managed to set up with whatever farmers are left in the Hinterlands means that there's bits of fruit in it these days. Leliana's already puttering around in her tent while the ink well she must have forgotten there overnight thaws by the fire and she gives Sorin a smile when she catches xem staring. The porridge can only last so long and xe scrubs the bowl and spoon as best xe can with a handful of snow before handing it back to Threnn, missing its warmth in xyr fingers already as xe heads down the hill, staff slung over xyr shoulders.

The noises of the recruits only grow louder and more violent as xe gets closer to the gates of Haven, rubbing stiffening hands together and blowing on them as xe jogs down the hill. Staff exercises only get harder to do right when your fingers are icicles and xe already has enough bruises to show for xyr recent efforts in combat. The guards nod to xem as xe pushes through the gates, closing them with the smallest thunk possible for two giant chunks of wood on hinges. Solid as human construction might be, it's far too clunky and prone to obtrusively loud noises for Sorin's preferences. The forges are already warming up, ready to start working with the iron they've been shipping back from the Hinterlands, but the Chargers' tents remain silent and calm, apparently undisturbed by the melee taking place barely thirty feet from their smaller encampment.

Xe leans xyr staff on the dummy furthest from where Cassandra is already throwing herself into her morning warmup and starts to stretch. Xe enjoys loosening xyr muscles, the slow easing of tension and tightness as xe bends xyr limbs every which way. It's certainly preferable to the wrenched muscles and joints xe used to get when xe first learned to use a staff, still awkward and gangly in that special adolescent way that not even elves are excepted from. Sorin finishes the last part of xyr routine and shrugs off any lingering tension as best as xe can before steeling xyrself and shucking off xyr coat. The cold air is a physical shock and xe lets xyrself feel it for a moment before xe trades xyr staff for xyr coat and lets it out with xyr next breath.

The staff is heavy in xyr hands, ironwood weighted with lead inlays at the ends and middle, not meant for channeling magic but for simple exercise. Xe takes a few steps away from the dummy and continues xyr rhythmic breathing in complete stillness for a few moments, eyes drifting closed against the brightness of the rising sun. Xe starts slowly, simple patterns and twirls of the staff meant to spread blood through xyr muscles and keep xem warm; it doesn't take long for xem to speed it up and add in more complexity, torso and arms just as fluid as the staff is not, blurring into windmills of motion as the staff whirls through the air. The cold becomes secondary, irrelevant, nonexistent, and xyr breathing grows harsher and sweat starts to drip down xyr chest, soaking xyr undershirt and the binding of xyr pants. The slap of staff against palm and the rasp of every breath become the only noise with any meaning as the soldiers and Cassandra fade into the back of Sorin's mind. Twist, catch, spin, turn, keep that leg strong, pivot and don't slip, left now right and right again, grip harder, and catch!

The final impact reverberates up and down xyr arms as the rest of the world begins to register again, cold breeze on sweat soaked shirt and brightness against closed lids. Sorin lets out a last sigh of a breath and opens xyr eyes, arms coming down to rest at xyr sides. Xe turns away from the sun that's just peeking into view above the mountains and sets xyr staff back against the dummy. Unlike half of the nearby soldiers, Cassandra's not blatantly staring but she's returned to her exercises with just a bit more intensity than before and Sorin laughs under xyr breath as xe uses the flimsy undershirt to scrub off the last of xyr sweat. The coat's lost the warmth of xyr body heat but it's still a welcome shield when xe trots back up the steps to the chantry, ready to brave xyr frozen wash bowl and then hear the first of the day's reports.


End file.
